Random Encounters
The Ashlands - ---- :A vast unyielding landscape of cinder, ash, and ruin, the Ashlands are a bleak and desolate place deafening quiet and despondency that has little equal within the greater world around it. The voluminous range of the Ashlands is one cast from the remains of a dark and brooding sanguine forest; an evil forest that was torched to the ground in its entirety, forging the apocryphal terrain that now stands in its place. :Even the sky seems perpetually beset with cinder, for while the ash is settled and heavy upon the ground, the sky above fails to hold the same elegance that it should, as even that canvas had been marred by the events of what unfolded across this place, and within the dark and evil forest that once held dominion. :A copse of dilapidated trees dictates the only form of landmark that one can hope to find within this endlessly bleak terrain; the remains of those trees wretched and ominous things, each burned black and twisted with corruption from fire and death. The remaining limbs claw and scratch at whatever they can reach towards, snapping and cracking in the wind. Beyond that brief respite from the featureless landscape, there is only the endless stretch of ashen dune and cinder. ---- The ride begins quietly enough, with wolf and horse making steady paw and hoofbeats on the powdery ash-covered earth. And perhaps that was the warning - that even in a dead land, there might be levels of silence beyond the norm. There is no wind - none at all - but something pricks at the edge of ease as the group rides south. There is more afoot tonight than they alone... Nihanin continues his slow perusal over the land of ash, even as the eyes are noted. He doesn't seem to truely believe it is the only unique danger in this land, though he does tap Kallyn's shoulder and motions to it. With that delegated, he continues studying. Blackfox brings Velvel to a stop, backing the wolf up a few paces as her hand goes up, "Hold," she says softly, peering into the night before them Taran - it would seem - really should learn to keep his mind to himself. All at once, the bard lets out a soft moan of pain, shivering as he clutches at his head, swallowing hard. "B-bad," he manages, sounding more than a bit overwhelmed. "C-cold - no..." Locking his jaw, he raises his argentite staff in front of him through sheer stubborn willpower alone. "This...is *real*..." "I see it," Kallyn replies to Nihanin's tap, eyes widening and jaw dropping, as she can make out more than just creature's eyes. She stops, keeping Larentia near the back of the group but in a position where she can see whatever it is blocking their path. She situates her left hand to steer alone, in case they need to flee, and allows her right to hover beside her as that hand flexes. Smokey eyes shoot to Taran and she frowns, gripping the reins (or whatever one steers a wolf with) tighter. There is a snarl and claws and furs spring forth before the owl. Hackles up, Samlae seems to be snaring down the creature. The bird, swoops gracefully behind the creatures, low and changing. Legs extend and touch down to the ground, the Valoria stumbles a pace or two behind the snarling wolf. Placing his hand on the hilt of the silver shortsword at his waist, Sandrim looks out at the creature with a frown. "That... is definitely not good," he states obviously. "Taran, do you think there's any chance at all we'd stand against it?" The creature wastes no time, but neither does it rush. Gliding soundlessly, tracklessly, it moves toward them without stirring the ash at all. As it nears even Nihanin can see it clearly - seven feet tall, human in a ghostly sort of way, with its lower body tapering into night's shadows, its hands end in grasping claws and its eyes burn redly in the night. The cold night grows colder in its aura, and as it comes near...it laughs. The sound is the sound of scraping stone casques and clattering bones, a laugh without breath or joy. The laugh of a thing that hungers...and has just seen a feast. "You have two choices." Nihanin says simply. "You can stand and fight, or you can flee. We have one that is slower then the rest so it'll make the two of us an easy target. Which means the rest of you will have a greater chance to escape. Though... if we make a point and wipe this guy, anything smaller then him isn't likely to mess with us. Does it bleed, Fox?" Velvel continues to backpedal as Fox's eyes remain riveted on the thing, "I do not know," she replies, "I live by avoiding such things as this. I have fired arrows at beasts of shadow, but never stayed around to search for signs of blood." Taran, for his part, seems to be stunned, or perhaps in shock. Gripping his staff tightly, jaw locked, nevertheless the man keeps shivering and appears more than a bit distracted. "D-don't know," he manages breathlessly. "Cold - so c-cold, sucks the b-breath..." All his will seems to be focused on staying upright in the saddle and not being a target. There's nothing left to spare for anything else. "We should go," Kallyn states, taking a tip from Blackfox steering her own wolf into a slow backpedal, "If this thing is anything like that damned bear, we should leave. Now." She is prepared to do just that, but makes no move to flee without the others. She again looks to Taran, and her brows knit. Is that concern in her eyes? Not that anyone would notice, there's a SHADOWTHING coming after them. A very soft crackling starts from the girl's fingers, but she does not reach for her powers just yet. Celeste straightens her shoulders. Her grip tightens to the mace. "If we are leaving, then give us a time to create a distraction," she suggests. Her attention flickers to the wolf. "Hold steady, Salmae. You will have your teeth in him soon," she encourages. Sandrim frowns. "Nothing's invincible," he notes. "And I'm not sure we can get away from it." He leaps off the back of his horse, drawing his shortsword. "Now would be a good time for prayers, by the way." While everyone natters about what to do, the laughing Shadow creature comes closer, and closer -until it's close enough to take a lazy swipe at Sandrim's midriff with those claws of living Night. Perhaps it is truly slow. Perhaps it is simply toying with its newfound pets. The celestial wolf at Celeste's side seems to see nothing but that living darkness. And from the way it's growling, hackles raised, only Celeste's word is keeping it from the attack. "Sandrim, don't step off yo-Urgh." The man growls at the fellow, legs swinging off the wolf. "Our decision is made for us." It's... fairly true. They're not going to accelerate away, with most of the rides holding two, one sickly fellow, and another unmounted. So off his wolf, and? If he'll play, that means he isn't serious. Unfortunatly, they have to be if they want to win. So straight forward, sword freed. If he gets close enough? He'll attack. Blackfox slips off Velvel's back but stays close to the wolf, bow in hand as she slowly backs up and nocks an arrow. Taran still seems to be dealing with whatever it was that the creature did when they brushed minds, and all the man can do seems to be to hold his seat, his defensive stance, and keep his horse from bolting. At great effort, he manages, "D-don't...let it t-touch you..." through locked jaw and gritted teeth. Kallyn growls as the creature takes a swipe (albeit a slow one) at Sandrim, and is off of her wolf right after Nihanin. She takes a few steps to the side to get a good angle at the creature and extends her right hand, the crackling growing in volume. She attempts to summon a volley of lightning to attack the beast. "Now," Celeste whispers. The words may carry, but it is clear they are for the wolf alone. The beast leaps into life, teeth bared and lunging at the shadow beast. The Valoria who holds its figurative reigns, a step or two behind it, with the mace raised and angling for an attack if she can. It is with an unnatural swiftness that Sandrim leans to one side, avoiding that swipe from the shadow beast. His dark eyes glint a moment, filled with unearthly calm, before he raises that silver shortsword, swinging it down at the wraith's torso. The creature's empty, dead laughter mocks your feeble attempts at attack. Nihanin's strike, while well-aimed and true, goes right through the thing as if it weren't there. It easily sidesteps both Celeste and her wolf's attempts to harm it, and the laughter is cruel as it catches Sandrim's argentite claymore in its Shadowed claws. But Kallyn's lightning - *that* reaches it. That hurts it, and its laughter ceases as it spits out a foul curse in a language that hurts the ears - and, somehow, the very soul. Sandrim's down, Taran's incapicatated, Kallyn's effective but... he doesn't seem to be. His swing passes through, a shuffling of steps, boots kicking up ashes. "Light. Fox!" A bellow, at least attempting to mock that of an Imperial instructor. "If you're still mounted, get going. Everyone, back to your mounts, quickly!" The sword is switched in his grip, and then dragged along his palm. It isn't his sword hand anyway. Fingers press in, blood wells, and then he just flings the waste toward the wolf. Any response? Blackfox is no longer on her wolf but still beside her, the two continuing to back away. She shivers as the creature howls, but then as Sandrim falls, she snaps her bow up and lets loose an arrow from the string. Taran breathes like a marathon runner, trying to keep control of himself for just a little bit longer. Just a little...little bit. Getting down off his horse, moving with the stiff jerkiness of a man who is forcing his limbs to move through sheer will and nothing else, he drags Sandrim over to Purga and drapes the smaller man across his horse's saddle. Then takes the reins, and mounts his own horse. "G-go," he says, even the single word taking an audible effort. Whether it was to the party, or to his mare, is hard to say - but Prestissimo all but *bolts* northward. "Nihanin, go with Fox," Kallyn orders, her tone not leaving much room for argument, "Celeste can join me on Laren, we'll take up the rear, GO!" Not intending to flee until the other are on their way, she warms up another volley of lightning for the shadow creature to keep it occupied. Celeste falls back, trying to put distance between her and the creature. But Salmae lunges against to try and catch at the beast. Only when the noblewoman puts some distance between the two. No more fun and games, it seems. At least, the hollow, dead laughter of the Shadow creature is less mocking now, and more overtly cruel. Growling a bit as two riders get away, it shrugs off Kallyn's lightnings and easily floats away from the celestial wolf's teeth, as Blackfox's arrow passes dramatically but harmlessly between its glowing eyes. It reaches out with its clawed hand for Kallyn now, to crush her throat - or perhaps tear it out. Kallyn's eyes widen and she attempts to step back from that clawed hand, her speed commendable but just not good enough compared to the unnatural quickness of the beast. A strangled sort of sound comes from the girl as she tries to cry out in terror in that span of time between the clawed hand making contact and it crushing her very unlucky little throat. But! She's still alive! And conscious (barely)! Her body goes rigid and if the beast lets go she falls to the ground and is dead weight for the efforts to move her. Nihanin had turned to follow, but upon seeing the damage wrought? A startled curse, feet plant, and then they charge forward toward where Kallyn had fallen. Around is preferred, but if necessary, he'll attempt to go THROUGH the wolf and assist the woman toward her mount. "Everyone, if you want to live, you'll go now." Softly spoken, since it's likely obvious already. Damage control and individual desire to survive, right? Seeing her arrows are useless, Blackfox leaps upon Velvel's back, leaning forward and urging her to leap into the fray, offering a hand out to Nihanin who, hopefully, has a good grip on Kallyn. "Run Celeste!" "Salmae now," Celeste cries. She dives towards the fallen mage, if the others do not have a grip to her. The wolf takes a moment to launch another attack as the noblewoman goes for the mage. Depending on if she can catch hold of the mage before the other, she drags her back. Soon her form dissolves, but there is no mongoose or owl now. A lionness stands in its place, and would try and bear the mage away. (if she's not already grabbed) :) The celestial wolf does the best it can to cover their retreat - harrying the wraith, drawing its attention, nipping where it can. Buying time for the others to escape. ---- Return to Season 7 (2008) Category:Logs